No More Waiting, She Chooses Love

"Look, you don't have to shower every time you wash your hair," his comment left me in stitches.

"Suit yourself, but hurry up, or it'll be dawn," I said, pushing him towards the bathroom, half-worried he'd drag me along if I moved any slower. Ernest, at first glance, seemed tough, distant, and not the type to mingle with women. A real ascetic.

But now, I realized once this man indulged, he was like a floodgate opened-unstoppable.

While he showered, I cleared the dinner table, a habit ingrained in me since childhood by my parents, never to leave dirty dishes overnight.

I hadn't even finished tidying up the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

At first, I thought I heard wrong, assuming it was another room's doorbell, but as it rang again and again, I knew it was mine.

Who could it be at this hour?

Grabbing a paper towel, I dried my hands and approached the door, puzzled. Even with Ernest inside, I habitually asked, "Who is it?"

"It's me!"

The voice behind those two words made me freeze.

Conrad.

Why was he here so late?

And today, he had treated me like a total stranger.

Lost in my shock, Conrad started banging on the door, making it clear he wouldn't leave without seeing me.

In the dead of night, he seemed unfazed by the possibility of disturbing others, but I was mortified.

I reluctantly opened the door to find Conrad, pale, with his hair slightly disheveled and one hand raised as if to knock again.

"Conrad, what are you doing?" I asked, frowning.

"Felicia, why aren't you answering my calls?" His question reminded me of the incessant ringing during my entanglement with Ernest.

I glanced away, "I didn't hear it, you..."

Before I could finish, he grabbed me, "Come with me."This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

His hand was ice cold on my arm, sending shivers down my spine. I didn't budge and tried to pull away, "Conrad, have you lost your mind?" His dark eyes were filled with panic, "It's my dad; he's in bad shape."

"What?" I was taken aback.

"He suddenly started coughing up blood. The doctors think he might not make it. He wants to see you," Conrad's voice trembled.

My mind went blank, buzzing with confusion.

Before coming here, I had met with Dustin, who had assured me that Herschel was doing fine. How could he suddenly be coughing up blood?

"I've chartered a private jet; we need to leave now," Conrad insisted, pulling my hand again.

This time, I didn't hesitate and followed him, but after a few steps, I remembered I hadn't informed Ernest. I stopped, "Wait, I need to..." "There's no time," Conrad interrupted.

I had been with Conrad for ten years, but I had never seen him this frantic.

So, Herschel must really be in critical condition.

The biggest regret of my life was not being there when my parents had their accident. I often wondered if they were still alive at that moment, desperately wanting to see me or say something to me.

It was a regret that haunted me.

Now, with Herschel's life hanging by and him being one of the

a

3hreaortant people in my life, I

didn't want to repeat that regret.

As for Ernest, I could call him later.

So, I left the hotel with Conrad, speeding through the streets,

gripping the car's handle tigh

barety breathing, too afraid to even ask for his phone.

It took us twenty minutes to reach the private airfield, and Conrad didn't waste a second getting me on the plane.

"Conrad, give me your phone," I finally said, just as the plane was about to take off.